


Romance in E Major

by roseandheather



Category: Honor Harrington Series - David Weber
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Augustus and Estelle share a duet, a piano bench, and a love of the one true universal language. Not to mention each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance in E Major

Later, he would always say he had followed the music.

The baby grand piano was hidden away in a small room on the top floor, meters away from Dame Estelle’s private quarters. Crowded with instrument, bench, and music, the room felt hardly bigger than a closet, but Estelle didn’t care. Here, alone with the music, she could be free for a few glorious minutes.

Her hair was bundled back in a knot at the nape of her neck; she wore a beige King’s College sweatshirt and leopard-print sweatpants, abandoning her usual stylish attire for pure comfort. Experienced fingers rippled over the keys, spilling notes like diamonds through the empty hall. She smiled, slightly, as she remembered a woman who loved Hammerwell; “Thunder of Heaven” was a beguiling mix of storm and calm, and she played with the practiced ease of someone who knows a piece so well they can play it without thought.

He found her, then; she looked over her shoulder and smiled a welcome, but her fingers didn’t stop. Instead she gently wound the song to a close, then slid into the glowing refrain of an old Grayson hymn - one which went clear back to pre-space Old Earth.

He came to stand behind her, the door closing silently as he settled his hands on her shoulders, and listened for a long moment, tears pricking his eyes, before he began to sing.

_Eternal Father, lend Thy grace To_  
 _those with wings who fly thro’ space,_  
 _Thro wind and storm, thro’ sun and rain,_  
 _Oh bring them safely home again._

_Oh Father, hear an humble prayer,_  
 _For those in peril in the air! Amen…_

She blinked and looked up at him, startled, and he gave her a shy smile as he continued on. His voice was a rich, clear baritone, obviously trained well and professionally, and she leaned back against his strong chest as the melody died at last.

_Thus evermore shall rise to Thee_  
 _Glad hymns of praise from land and sea! Amen…_

He squeezed her shoulders once, then settled himself on the bench to her left; she scooted over to accommodate him, then turned to face him with curiosity in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you could sing!”

He ducked his head, that shy grin back on his face. “Four years, Naval Combined Choir, Royal Manticoran Naval Academy,” he admitted with a slight blush. “One of the albums actually has one of my solos on it, if you can believe that! Of course, that was a very long time ago.”

“You haven’t lost your touch,” she murmured, and saw him flush even more.

He studied her gravely for a long moment; then his hands - big hands, strong hands, capable hands - settled on the keyboard, and Estelle had to fight back tears.

The song was “A Rose for Amandine”, a piano duet by a forgotten composer. She’d had the piece on repeat in her private quarters for nearly a month after Dame Amandine had been killed, but hadn’t known anyone would recognize it. Plainly, he did - he had - and her breath caught hard in her throat as her fingers joined his and she added the crystal descant to his lower melody.

Their fingers danced together for what felt like forever. She closed her eyes and played by pure instinct; then opened them to drink in the sight of his face, glowing with peace and contentment.

As all things must, that song, too, came to an end, and he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in the sight of her. “Somehow I always forget.”

Her hand flew self-consciously to the bundle of hair at her neck, her eyes flicking from the worn sweatshirt to the truly absurd sweatpants, and he shook his head. “Not just your body,” he continued, his voice husky. “Or your face, for that matter, though that is truly spectacular.” She flushed, and he grinned boyishly for a brief moment.

“No,” he said at last, taking his hand and pressing it to her heart. “It’s here, Essie.”

She kissed him then, her lashes damp, her hands twining through his hair. His own slid around her, sliding up underneath the threadbare sweatshirt to find bare skin. Arms closed tight, the two of them holding each other there on a skinny piano bench with music still in the air, kissing like they’d never get another chance.

“I love you,” she murmured at last, into the solid warmth of his shoulder. “So much.”

“And I love you.” His voice was low and warm, and she shivered as she heard echoes of his glorious baritone in the beautiful words. “Always, Essie.”

“I’m so glad you found me.” Her heart was in her eyes as she looked at him, and he bent his head to kiss her eyelids.

“Oh, Essie, no. No. I am so glad you found me.”

If their words became murmurs then, and their talking became kissing, which became something else entirely - well, there was no one else around to hear them, after all.

“Take me to bed,” she said at last, her voice rough. “Please.”

“As you wish - my lady.”


End file.
